Rain streaked down the neon-lit streets, turning the city into a blur of color and reflection. Mohamed pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders, shivering—not entirely from the cold. There was a weight pressing on his mind, something he couldn't name.
Why does this feel… familiar? he wondered, glancing at the puddles reflecting faces of strangers. Every step he took echoed like a memory half-forgotten, tugging at something deep inside him.
He shook his head. I've never been here before. This is impossible.
But the feeling didn't go away.
The apartment was small, almost suffocating in its simplicity. Mohamed sat by the window, listening to the rain drumming against the glass. Sleep refused him. His mind was restless, haunted by fragments: faces he didn't know, voices whispering secrets in the dark, fleeting images of streets, doors, and rooms he had never entered.
And then, as the clock struck midnight, it happened.
A shadow. Tall. Faceless. And yet somehow familiar. It moved through his dreams with impossible grace. It reached out, and Mohamed felt a tug at the edges of his memory.
"Remember…"
The single word echoed through him, vibrating in a way that made his bones ache.
Images exploded in his mind. Streets he had never walked. Faces he had never met. Voices he had never heard. And then… flashes of himself—someone else, doing things he could not possibly have done. Fighting. Running. Screaming. Laughing. Living another life that had nothing to do with him… and yet somehow everything.
Mohamed woke with a start. His sheets were damp with sweat, his heart hammering like a drum. Was it a dream? he wondered, shaking his head. Or a message?
The city outside seemed… different. Harsher. Colder. As if the world itself had shifted overnight.
The next morning, Mohamed wandered without purpose. Something pulled him toward an abandoned part of the city, a cluster of crumbling buildings and rusting metal. He had no idea why. Instinct? Curiosity? Or something darker?
And then he saw him.
A figure standing in the shadow of the largest building. Tall, impossibly still. Cloaked in darkness, yet somehow visible, as if the shadow itself was alive.
Umbra.
Mohamed froze. Fear, curiosity, fascination—all tangled inside him. The figure's presence pressed on him like a physical weight, suffocating and magnetic at the same time.
"You're beginning to remember," the voice said. Not in his ears, but inside his head. A thought that was a voice, a voice that was a thought. "The memories you've lost… they are not yours alone. And power… power changes everything."
Mohamed stumbled backward. His legs refused to obey. He wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to demand answers—but words failed him.
What does he mean? Not mine alone? What power? What memories?
Umbra didn't answer. The figure simply faded into the shadows, leaving only a whisper lingering in the damp air:
"The Eclipsed Order watches… and you are already part of the game."
Shivering, Mohamed leaned against the rusted metal of the abandoned building. He wanted to tell himself it was a hallucination. But something inside him refused to accept that lie.
On impulse, he touched the cold, rusted door. And then it began.
The world exploded.
Visions poured into him like a storm. He saw streets that didn't exist, battles fought centuries ago, faces he should not have known. He heard whispers—his name, echoed in multiple voices, overlapping, overlapping, overlapping. And then, a flash: himself, older, stronger, holding a sword he had never wielded, standing before an army of shadows.
He gasped, staggering back. Fear burned through him—but underneath it, a dark thrill.
I am not who I thought I was… he thought, gripping his chest. I am something more.
The visions faded, leaving only the sound of rain. Neon lights reflected in puddles. The city seemed fragile now, teetering on the edge of some hidden truth. Mohamed felt it in his bones: nothing would ever be ordinary again.
And then came the thought that would haunt him forever:
The world I know… is a lie.
As the sun began to rise, faint and weak behind the clouds, Mohamed sat on the curb, drenched, trembling, heart racing. He didn't notice the figure watching him from the shadows across the street. Tall. Silent. Patient.
Umbra.
And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.
But his words remained:
"The Eclipsed Order watches… and you are already part of the game."
Mohamed's hands clenched into fists. He wanted to scream, to fight, to run… but something inside him knew that the game had already begun.